


The Yellow Sundress

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mollcroft, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:23:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a glorious Friday afternoon in London. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze and a few fluffy white clouds effortlessly floated in the brilliant blue sky. It could easily be considered the “perfect” afternoon. To celebrate, Mycroft Holmes is enjoying a lovely meandering drive through London while watching sundress clad women as they saunter aimlessly down the street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Yellow Sundress

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters.  
> This work is purely for entertainment.

It was a glorious Friday afternoon in London. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze and a few fluffy white clouds effortlessly floated in the brilliant blue sky. It could easily be considered the “perfect” afternoon.

The glorious sunshine, seen so rarely on the rainy island, caused most inhabitants of London offices to make up some excuse to their bosses so they could head outside to the nearest green space and shed as many clothes as possible without getting arrested.

Although Mycroft Holmes did inhabit an office in London his situation was far too high to ever pull such a stunt on a Friday afternoon – even if the sun was out. He did not have a boss to answer to and he certainly would never dare disrobe in public.

Perfect afternoons such as this did cause great consternation for Mycroft. He enjoyed looking at half-naked women as much as the next man but would never, ever stoop to walking through one of the larger parks to gaze upon the young women in various stages of undress – no matter how much his primal needs cried out to him.

Over the years Mycroft had devised his own “perfect afternoon” ritual – a lovely meandering drive through London while watching sundress clad women as they saunter aimlessly down the street. Sunshine always, caused women wearing sundresses to aimlessly window shop – that was a given.

Anthea had given her boss a withering look when he announced he was going out for a while; he was fiddling with his sunglasses as he spoke.

“Don’t worry Anthea. I am heading towards Regents Park and will be unaware of you strolling around in the neighbourhood until my return,” he said these words as he slipped out of his office, sunglasses now on.

Boss and PA both knew each other all too well.

Climbing into the back of his car he commented to his usual driver, “Lovely afternoon for a drive today isn’t it Walter?”

“Very good sir,” and with that Walter began keeping his eye out for just what his boss was looking for this fine afternoon.

Mycroft let out a relaxed sigh as his car moved through the busy London streets. The sun brought everyone out. He wondered what it must be like to wonder aimlessly through his beloved city, without a care in the world with someone by your side and idly pass the afternoon.

“People” and more specifically “relationships” had never come easily to Mycroft. Early on the sting of rejection had made him fearful so now he watched life pass, mostly from the back of his car.

In the front, Walter cleared his throat bringing Mycroft out of his thoughts and once again present into the glorious London afternoon. “Up ahead on the right sir, yellow dress.”

“Excellent choice Walter. Well done,” murmured Mycroft under his breath.

The car slowed and Walter expertly maneuverered it into a space giving Mycroft a perfect view of the vision in yellow.

Her auburn hair was swooped up into a sloppy bun on top of her head leaving a breath-taking expanse of pale neck exposed. The yellow sundress had wide straps and five large buttons at the back which pulled the bodice of the dress snugly, but not too tight, across her back showing off nicely toned upper-back and arms. A skirt, not too full, but not too tight, _Mycroft would call it perfect_ , flowed easily over the woman’s behind before dropping to that seductive length of “at the knee.”

While walking, just a hint of the tender flesh behind her knee would flash, on top of her slender calves, which led to her delicate ankles ensconced in little strappy leather sandals with those impossibly tiny buckles. The woman carried a tote bag, most likely causally shopping for her weekend food deduced Mycroft effortlessly.

The women he gazed upon from the security of his backseat on sunny afternoons, Mycroft had convinced himself, were not the sorts of women who would go for a man like him. They might like the power or the money but he feared them too tender for the likes of his world. No matter what his body cried out for his mind remained steadfast – he would be content to watch them from afar.

With a small smile on his face he settled back into his seat and allowed Walter to do his job, and follow the woman in the yellow sundress at a discrete distance. Eventually she ducked into a shop.

“Shall we wait sir?”

The buzz of his phone drew Mycroft attention before he could answer his driver.

“Hello?” Mycroft was scowling. Someone had rung his private line and he didn’t recognize the number.

“Um. Hello. Mycroft? Mycroft Holmes?” came the shaky voice of a woman.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“It’s … Molly … Molly Hooper,” stammered the voice. “I’m a friend of your brother. I’m a friend of Sherlock.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes but bit his tongue. He most certainly did not need to be told his brother’s name. “Ah yes. I remember you; the woman who placates my brother with various bits of human anatomy.”

“Yes. That’s me,” the woman gave a slight giggle at this description but the worried tone was not too far away. “I’m really sorry, but Sherlock said I should ring this number if I ever found myself in trouble. And I think I am in trouble.“

“Tell me and I will do my best.” Mycroft made a mental note to chastise Sherlock for passing out his private number to his friends as some sort of help line. Visions of unpaid congestion changes or red-tape surrounding a suspect Aunt’s Visa swam through his head.

“I … I think I am being followed.”

 _Oh. This could actually be serious_ , thought Mycroft.

“Where are you?” asked Mycroft taking a deep breath and returning to “all business” mode as he readied his second phone to call for his mobile security team.

Molly gave her location. “You are in luck Dr. Hooper I happen to be just around the corner. I will come and check out the situation myself. Stay on the phone and keep talking.”

In just under a minute Mycroft, looking very much like James Bond, strode into the coffee shop  where Molly had tucked herself into the loo. He scanned the place up and down and didn’t find anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention to the door to the loo or the woman hiding inside.

“I’m here. Come out and join me in the queue at the counter. Act like we are together.”

Powering off his phone Mycroft slipped it into his pocket and then stood intently starting at the menu behind the counter. Moments later he felt a small hand slip itself into the crook of his arm.

“Have you decided what you want dear?” Mycroft asked without looking at Molly.

“Oh. Um. Yes. Could I have an iced coffee please.”

“Of course,” Mycroft forced a smile as he turned and looked down at Molly.

He was met with a soft “Hi,” a small, sweet smile and nervous brown eyes.

All of the blood drained from Mycroft’s face and, unfortunately for him, straight to his groin, because he found none other than the woman in the yellow sundress standing close enough for him to smell her heavenly lilac perfume.

Of course Mycroft had seen Molly in person many times but always in the morgue smelling of death wearing a lab coat at least two sizes too large and a suspect jumper that was probably knit by a much-loved but mostly blind maiden aunt.

“Mycroft? Are you alright?” asked Molly with a worried tone.

Seconds passed before Mycroft was actually able to make his mouth form words. Half his brain was telling him to run back to his car where he belonged. The other half was cheering because he finally had a woman within smelling distance -- who was touching him!

“Yes. Yes I am fine. Just a little surprised to see you here with so few clothes on.” Molly’s cheeks took on a delicious pink glow as her gaze fell to the ground while Mycroft’s face positively burned red when he realized what he had said. “I mean, you normally have your lab coat on … and a jumper and ….”

“It’s okay. Must make the most of the sun,” Molly smiled up nervously at Mycroft before she asked quietly “Did you see anything when you came in?” The two had now taken a seat at the back and were sipping the two iced coffees.

“No. I didn’t see anything suspicious. Tell me what happened to you.” Mycroft’s tone was back to serious, trying make up for his earlier ignorant comments.

As Molly began to recount what had happened to her over the last twenty minutes, soon Mycroft felt himself filling with guilt instead of desire as he realized it was his black car Molly had noticed stalking her. And the very man she feared was going to come after her, probably kidnap her and possibly do horrible things to her was the very same man who had just bought her an iced coffee.

The British Government faced quite a dilemma: admit he was indeed the sort of middle-aged man that ogled young women from the back of his car or deny everything try to get back to the safety of his office as soon as possible.

“So what do you think?” asked Molly innocently.

Sadly, Mycroft didn’t know what he thought because for the last few minutes he had been listening to the voices inside his head debating the pros and cons of fleeing – not what Molly had been saying.

“I am quite sure he meant no actual harm to you.”

Taking a deep breath Molly crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, staring directly at Mycroft.

“He?”

Warning bells went off in Mycroft’s head. He had answered the question too precisely. _Damn_.

“How do you know it’s a he?” Molly emphasised the last word.

“Statistically it would be a he – following a young attractive woman – while in the back of his black car.” He tried to sound confident and convincing.

“He and not them?” came the quick retort.

“Possibly them. Yes. It could be more than one man,” stammered Mycroft with a forced smile.

“I never said the car was black. I said it was dark colour. You got here awfully fast Mycroft. You haven’t said why you were in the neighbourhood.”

Mycroft took a deep breath and looked into Molly’s eyes. He couldn’t lie to her no matter how much he wanted to. It was going to be bad but whatever happened he deserved it.

“It was me,” he admitted meekly. “I was in the back of my black car, following you for the last 20 minutes.” His eyes dropped to the table, watching his hands as they nervously ripped up a paper napkin waiting for one of the cups of iced coffee to be poured over him. He was so sure of his fate that he was already trying to concoct a story to explain the necessity of his suit being dry cleaned to Anthea. Ah who was he kidding; he couldn’t lie to Anthea either.

Molly remained still, staring at Mycroft for a few very uncomfortable minutes before she spoke.

“Well,” she began, taking a deep breath. “The easiest thing to do would be to dump this cup of coffee over you, stomp out of here and once I get back to the lab dispose of the 39 out of 50 requested left index toes I have collected for Sherlock, letting you deal with both the dry cleaning and the grumpy brother.”

Mycroft winced. The suit cleaning would be expensive but easy compared to an out-of-sorts Sherlock.

“But I think you deserve something much worse.” Molly’s enigmatic smile worried Mycroft. “For your punishment you will take the afternoon off, send Anthea home and accompany me for the rest of the day – to deter any other middle-aged men in black cars who wish to follow me. Then after I go home and change I’ll let you take me out to dinner.” Her eyes twinkling Molly took a long sip of her iced coffee.

“No,” replied Mycroft firmly.

Molly's hand tightened around her cup getting ready to toss its contents across the table if she got anymore resistance from the middle-aged pervert sitting across from her.

“If I have to buy you dinner,” Mycroft paused, “you are not changing out of that dress.” He did nothing to stop the smile from crossing his face.

//

Walter was shocked to see Mycroft coming out of the coffee shop chatting easily with the woman in the yellow dress. He watched as Mycroft took the tote bag from the woman and causally slung it over his arm then walk over to the car and tap on the driver’s window indicating Walter should open it.

“Slight change of plans Walter. I am taking the afternoon off as is Anthea. You can go home too. I’ll ring if I need you.” Mycroft started to walk away and then turned back before the window had been raised. “Thank you Walter. You made a very auspicious choice today.” Mycroft smiled at Walter and then turned back to the waiting woman.

Stunned, Walter remained in the parked car and watched as his boss slowly meandered down the street chatting happily to the woman in the yellow sundress, who by now had her hand tucked into the crook of his arm.


End file.
